Chapter 6: Sleepless Days

I flex my arms a bit as I leave the soup kitchen for the day. Insulin, epinephrine, and now naloxone. Focusing on work the last few days has mostly pried my mind off the Mikra situation, though I still have sixteen hours or so per day where I'm not working, even though I stayed until nearly ten PM today. I simply don't want to go home yet. There's a lingering stress in my apartment, like at any second, an MBR agent is going to crawl out from under the couch with a weapon in hand. Not to mention how empty the place feels now that I'm alone again. Worse yet, I'm running out of things to do to occupy my time. What do people usually do when they have too much time on their hands and don't want to think?

I'm down to three friends. I already spend a good chunk of the day with Kapil, and he's been a bit stoic since finding out I'm not human. Shirai is usually introverted, and I'm trying not to bother him too much, especially since I feel like an ass for barely messaging him for the last couple years. Mark has work in the morning, and I don't want to make the drive there anyway. All my shells are in peak shape, and I can't think of any improvements to them. I'm getting bored of video games. I'm fully stocked on every element I could need. Drugs and alcohol don't do anything but limit my shell's responsiveness and mess with my nerve clusters. What's left?

26#: I'm easily bored. Or maybe I'm just bad at finding ways to entertain myself.

I wander the streets downtown, aimlessly looking to see what's open at eleven PM. This is the second night I've done this. A convenience store, a coffee shop...

Coffee shop it is. I open the glass door, which is surprisingly clean and has the place's name emblazoned on it. 'Sleepless Days'. How have I never seen this place before? I don't usually drink coffee, but this place literally has my name on it.

The inside is more spacious looking than it seems on the outside. Polished tiled floor with scarce cracks filled in with some kind of gold sealant, and cozy brown walls with typical latte art designs in white across their breadth. A small stage is set up in one corner, and in the other is a small bookshelf reading 'take a book, leave a book'. There's even pairs of earplugs individually wrapped in a big plastic container, and a few pairs of beat up headphones resting on a coffee table.

It's bustling for ten twenty PM, with a total of four other people inside. The barista's maybe forty or so, a friendly looking white guy with a buzzed head and round glasses, wearing a brown button-up with rolled up sleeves and a black vest in the middle of summer. He's chatting casually with a younger person, a regular judging by the tenor of conversation, wearing a denim jacket with the fledgling start of a pin collection, well-worn sweatpants, and a backless baseball cap that displays their dense coiled hair like the terminus of a waterfall caught in time. The older man nods at me with a smile, the younger person turning around and giving a short wave.

Hell, why not?

I sit with a one stool gap between myself and the denim jacketed person. "Hey. I'm Lena."

"Brant," the barista says. "Nice to see a new face."

"I'm Casey," the denim jacket adds, spinning on the stool to face me. "I like your highlights."

"What? Oh! Yeah, thank you. I forgot I did them." I start twirling some of my hair around a finger, appreciating the compliment. Having them start brown and turn blonde at the tips was a hassle, but I'm glad someone appreciates the result.

Casey's sepia-skinned, with playful eyes that seem like they aren't quite focused on me and a wide, bright smile. Now that I'm close, there's only a handful of pins in the jacket so far. Pronouns, a fairly boring rainbow, and one that says 'protect sapient rights.'

The last one in particular is reassuring.

"So." Brant says. "Coffee?"

"Sure. I'll get two of whatever Casey last got, assuming they want another." I shoot a look in their direction. "Payment for the compliment."

"Already buying me a drink? Aren't you forward." They laugh like a car engine that won't start, choppy and hoarse. "Yeah, another of what I'm having."

Brant nods to himself, getting two large black coffees and setting one in front of each of us.

Casey lifts their cup to me. "To new friends?"

"To new friends." I tap my cup against their's, taking a sip, immediately scalding my tongue. I pop the lid off to let it cool, and stick the tip of my tongue out of my mouth.

Casey laughs again at seeing my display. "So what brings you here in the dead of night?"

"Oh, I don't sleep." I take a coffee stirrer from a paper cup on the counter, absently submerging it in the coffee and making a little whirlpool.

"Yeah? What's that like?" Casey plays along, resting their elbow on the counter.

"Most nights, its great. A lot of extra time for myself. Sometimes though, like tonight, they're just lonely. I'm glad I found this place to help with that."

Casey studies me for a moment, their eyes still giving the illusion that they're looking behind me. "A surprisingly sad answer for a joke."

"Didn't mean to bring the mood down."

"Let's start with why are you so down? You seem like you have a tale to tell." Casey takes a short sip of their coffee.

"I do, but I can't share details. In short, mutual crush, but before I can confess, the other person finds out about something arguably immoral I did and called the feds on me."

Casey rolls their eyes, catching the soft yellow lights above us. "Do you always start conversations by concocting depressing stories, or is it just Brant bringing it out of you?"

Brant wads up a napkin and throws it at Casey, who throws it right back.

"Well," I say, "it's a me thing. I'm just on edge, heard there's a magical beast wandering around disguised as a human."

Casey starts to frown. "Why? Did they do something?"

"Not yet, but you know. They're trouble." I carefully observe their reactions.

Brant and Casey's scornful frowns are equal to telling them I kicked puppies professionally. Yeah, my hunch was right. This is a safe place.

Brant points to the door. "I don't think this is the place for you, Lena."

Casey looks disgusted by me, looking away and back to Brant.

With a smile, I stay seated, and lean forward on the counter. "Sorry for misleading you two. I just wanted to make sure we were all on the same page. People lie about who they accept, but not so much about who they don't."

Casey turns their head back to me, hair fluffing itself out a bit from the movement. "You're just being confusing on purpose, aren't you?"

"Sorry. Let me put it this way: the person I liked didn't call the FBI, they called MBR." I hold up a hand, and look over at the other two in here. One is busy on a laptop, the other passed out on a comfy looking chair.

May as well get it over with now. "Let me show you something I only show friends." I retract my shell, hovering in place for a few seconds before turning into a raven, and then back to Lena. It doesn't seem like anyone except Casey and Brant saw me shift.

Casey sighs, pulling back the coffee and taking a drink. "That's... graphic."

Brant nods along with Casey, glancing over at the other two here.

I let myself relax a bit. "A final apology for dumping all that on you two. I just really needed to get that off my chest, and my other friends are asleep or don't want to be bothered right now."

Casey raises their voice a bit, calling over to someone else in the coffee shop. "Yo, Amber! Guess who's sitting next to me."

Amber turns away from her laptop after a lengthy final look at the screen. "I don't know, Jesus of Nazareth?"

"Maybe, if she wanted to be."

Amber perks up at that. "No shit?" She gets up from her laptop, leaving it on the table as she comes over, dark circles under her eyes contrasting pale skin as she looks me over.

Maybe this was a mistake. "You've known I'm secretly a magical beast for less than thirty seconds, and you're already telling people?"

Casey holds their hands up defensively. "It's not like that, I-"

Amber punches Casey in the back of the head hard enough to nearly knock them off the stool, to which they yelp a bit in surprise. Casey holds the back of their head, looking between Amber and I. "Okay, okay, god damn it. I deserved that."

"Yeah. You did." Amber tersely smiles at me.

Slowly, Amber's skin tone starts to darker, her short hair growing outward into thick coils, facial features looking ever so slightly different until completely the same as Casey's.

I've never met another shapeshifter before. I'm aware of the broad classifications, but never seen one in person. This is a Class B, if I remember correctly, capable of fully mimicking another person. Amber's clothing seems to stay the same throughout the process, but otherwise its a perfect match, down to the smallest line on Casey's face.

"So... yeah." Amber says, smiling loosely before shifting back to the form she was in before. "Despite Casey's particular brand of dipshittery, we're cool. Don't worry."

My eyes widen unintentionally, until I bring them back to normal. "I've never met another shapeshifter before. I have so many questions. If you don't mind, of course." The internet is incredibly unhelpful, and I've heard rumors that too many searches for 'shapeshifter advice' can get you on a watchlist.

Amber sits between Casey and I, stool creaking a bit more than it should. Maybe she's heavier than she appears, like me? "Sure. I needed a distraction, anyway," she says.

I rub my hands together. "Is the change just on the surface, or is it internal, too?"

Amber looks slightly relieved by the question. "Yep. That proves you're a shapeshifter. Non-shapeshifters always go with 'can you change into anyone? Can you be the president?' or other dumb stuff. To answer, yes, its internal too. Other than the brain and some of the spinal cord, though."

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

"Can you shift into me? I'm curious what you think of this body."

"Shapeshifting into another shapeshifter isn't a great idea. I did it once, and it's sort of like... you ever see a piece of paper that's been photocopied too many times?"

"Don't worry, I actually made this shell myself. I don't only mimic, I can actually create entire shells."

Amber's curious, judging by her attention. "Sure, lemme try."

Amber starts the process, gaining a little height, eyes changing color from brown to green, pale skin tanning slightly. By the time she's done, she's even more intrigued, opening and closing a fist while taking deep breaths. "God damn..."

"So? Thoughts?" I feel like I'm showing off a prized sports car.

"This is awesome! I feel like I could punch a hole in concrete. Every breath is flooding me with oxygen, I have insanely sharp vision..."

"Try changing your heart rate."

She pauses for a moment, face flushing and fading over the course of half a minute. "That is so freaking cool. What does this thing weigh?"

"I have it around one-sixty, any more and it'll be a little too suspicious for as thin as it is and only five foot six. Oh, here's a fun one. It automatically cycles body temperature between ninety-five and one hundred and two everywhere except the digestive system, making it inhospitable to most viruses and bacteria. Plus, it burns energy a lot faster when cold, and I even have it disperse some antifreeze proteins when it drops below thirty outside, so it can't get frostbite without actively trying to." I'm speaking faster, not noticing how excited I sound until I see Brant and Casey watching me in amusement. I'm starting to sound a bit like Shirai.

I blush a bit, until I force my blood to move from my face. "Sorry. I've spent a few years tinkering on it. A lot of nights with a bunch of organs and tissues laid out on tarps. Sorry again, gory."

Now even Amber is enjoying my unintentional performance. It takes a lot more effort to restrain my blush, now. "Stop judging me with my own shell's eyes. It's not fair, I made them extra judgy."

She laughs in my body's voice. So that's what it sounds like. I've heard my shell's voice played back hundred of times, but never bothered to listen to its laugh since I almost never do. It's not a pretty laugh, but it seems earnest. I'll take it.

I take a sip of the still slightly too hot coffee, smiling back at the three looking at me. "Oh, right. I don't experience pain the same way as humans. Don't tense your muscles too much. The nociceptors are repurposed here and there."

She nods. "This is awesome. I kind of love it."

"Out of curiosity, do you memorize forms you mimic like I do?"

"Yeah, I have dozens of them just clogging up my memories. I bet you can relate."

I think I found what I'm going to be doing for the next week or two to get my mind off of Mirka. "Want your own?"

Amber's expression is particularly rewarding after all the time I put into creating it to be convincingly confused. "Huh?"

"I've been extremely bored lately. If you wanted, I could make a shell customized to your taste. I find I'm most comfortable when I have a body that fits me. Might be the same for you?"

There's an agonizingly long pause. She starts to go pale, before shifting to the sunken-eyed form she was in when I came in. "Can it look like this?"

"It can look like whatever you want. Hang on." I take a pen from my void, and a napkin from the counter, offering both to her. "Write down whatever. I'm very good at working with biological tissue. If you're feeling like it, I can copy anything inorganic as well. Goes for you two as well, Brant and Casey. Let me know if you want something duplicated, usually I do discontinued food and meds. And bottle openers. I can't do text though."

Casey slams an open hand onto the counter in excitement, leaning back to look past Amber's rapidly writing form. "Wait, medication without text? Are you Kapil's mysterious 'third party'?"

"Hey, small world." Its like this place is my own personal fan club, and I'm an endless vacuum for praise and ego-padding.

"I could kiss you, I swear. I don't know how he makes a profit when he charges so little."

"Charges?"

"Yeah, ten bucks for..." Casey's eyes are fixed on my hand.

I follow their gaze, seeing rapidly brightening skin covered in hot coffee and notable pain signals. I had crushed the half-empty cup of coffee in my grip.

"Oops. Sorry about that, Brant, I'll clean it up."

He grabs a towel and walks around the counter. "I got it. Trouble with that super-strength?"

"No, not usually. I was just filled with an intense rage and desire to beat the shit out of Kapil. Weird, usually my sympathetic nervous system doesn't react that way. Must be from the... what?" I get up to toss the cup away, Casey's eyes watching me in concern while Brant pretends he didn't hear it.

I relax most of my muscles, keeping only the ones I need tensed. "Don't call MBR, Casey, I was just-"

"Obviously I won't. I'm not sure what I said to upset you, though." Casey hops off their own stool, taking a few napkins with them. "Let me clean you up. You just talk, okay?" Their voice turns gentle, far from the playful and sarcastic tone it was a moment ago.

"I'm not unstable, so you don't have to patronize me. It just surprised me." I take the napkins from them, and start wiping my hand off. "I've been making all this medicine under the understanding it was being donated, not sold. I don't care what he charges, its the principle. Hell's sake, I'm the one who pays for the material I need, too. It's actually a pain in the ass to make non-organic stuff, and he was profiting off it?"

Casey grimaces. "That's fucked. Amber, are you hearing this?"

"Huh?" She looks up from the napkin she's writing on, noticing Brant cleaning up coffee and my restrained anger. "What did I miss?"

"You know Kapil? The soup kitchen insulin guy? Apparently, out new friend here was the one making all the insulin for free to donate, and Kapil was skimming off the top." Casey looks even more pissed than I do, now.

Amber follows suit. "What an absolute bastard. So what's the plan, baseball bat to the knees?"

Casey looks to me for a reply. With effort, I give them one. "No. MBR is already on my case, and he has a son who I'm pretty sure has enough going on. I'm just going to talk to him. Ugh."

I sink back onto the stool, with Amber sitting back on my left, and Casey moving to my right. In my peripheral, I detect movement from inside the coffee shop, instantly remembering the sleeping guy from earlier.

I watch him as he shambles over, skin like white birch wood in both color and texture, and a beard that's scruffy as an unmowed lawn. The image of a farmer isn't helped by the dark brown pants and worn green hoodie with faint brown stains. He looks like he needs a few more days of sleep. Maybe weeks. "Hey guys," he drawls, walking behind the counter to make himself a drink. Brant seems unbothered, so I assume its a normal occurrence.

Casey sees my eyes following him. "That's Kemp. We're all pretty sure that's his last name. Hey, Kemp!"

"Mhmm." Kemp watches the espresso drip down into a cup.

"We have a new soon-to-be regular."

Kemp's heavy eyes find rest in mine, slowly closing until he jolts back up. "The hell. I know you."

"I don't think so."

"Yeah. Bridgette."

"...it's Lena. Sendurmir." I've used a solid handful of names, but never 'Bridgette'.

He watches me until his coffee is ready, and takes an ice cube from the industrial freezer, dropping it into the cup and watching it dissolve. "Lena Slenderman. Scary."

"Casey," I ask, "should I do something? I can make naloxone."

Casey finishes their coffee with a long chug, huffing out a little air as they set down the cup. "He's fine, just a web developer. His sleep schedule is all fucked up."

Kemp takes his small cup, drinking it in one go, before starting to make another.

"Uh-huh... I can do antihistamines too, if he should be sleeping."

"Good luck with that. I think-"

Amber interrupts with a bright "Okay!" followed immediately by an apology to Casey for interrupting.

Casey just waves her on, and Amber sets down the napkin. It's completely covered in intricate details about precisely where and what she wants.

"...been planning this for a while?" I ask, unfolding it to see even more notes.

"Just daydreaming. Umm, can you use the one I have now as a base?"

"Sure. Can I have some of your hair?"

She cringes at the question. "Uhh... why..?"

"Because the alternative to DNA is that I decompose you inside a finite nothingness in which time remains still unless experienced, and you either die instantly from its diametric opposition to active biologic processes, or you feel yourself being torn apart on a molecular level."

I hold out my hand.

Amber sheepishly pulls out a few strands with an embarrassed giggle. I pocket them and encode them within my void, before holding out my hand again.

"Now I need some for my hair collection."

Casey playfully pushes me in the back, calling me a dick. Brant, Casey, and Amber are laughing. I've had friends, but never a friend group. This might be nice, though the commitment might be stressful...

I get the feeling it will be worth it, though. The newly gained information alone has been helpful.

#27: I enjoy bragging about my shell, and designing a new one for another shapeshifter is the highest form of showing off.

#28: I'm curious about other humanoid magical creatures, especially shapeshifters.

#29: I am very manipulative, often I try to make people like me through offering favors so they feel appreciative.

#30: I strongly dislike being patronized.

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I open the door to the soup kitchen with my key, having decided to show up early. I'd like to talk to Kapil before anyone else arrives, and he's always the first one here. I feel almost predatory, ready to lure him into a trap as I go to the prep room, sitting on the office chair I brought in a few days ago.

Instead of insulin, I focus on designing Amber's new shell. The base is easy enough, and I need to do that before anything else. Modification comes after. Oddly, Amber's base seems to have a couple chronic issues: asthma, trigger finger, low flexibility... I touch those up while I'm here. Its barely a modification.

I nod at Kapil as he enters the prep room, as always. His eyes are filled with comforting warmth. "Good morning."

"Morning."

"Been here long?"

"A bit. Got the first cartridge, by the way." I reach into my pocket, and offer my hand out to him. He opens it, as I set a crumpled ten dollar bill in it. The warmth he had fades as he takes in the slowly unfolding note.

"Lena, I understand you must have questions." His voice is firm, like a parent's.

"No questions. I'll let you give an explanation, though, before I decide where to go from here." I stop focusing on Amber's shell for the moment, and devote my full attention to Kapil.

He wets his lips with his tongue, and starts speaking. "I don't charge everyone, just the people who can afford it. I have been saving it, putting the money away in case the kitchen needs it. I'm sure you know this place isn't here to turn a profit."

I don't respond. I won't, until he finishes.

"We live off of grants here, and one of them is potentially going to be pulled. I need to scrape money wherever I can, so that people who need it can keep coming here. Even my son is out and working part-time to help. You understand, right, Lena?"

I resist the urge to forcibly inject him with every different blood type I know and watch his immune system obliterate itself. "So you didn't feel the need to ask me, or even let me know? You just went behind my back about it?"

He starts his daily cleaning. "I didn't do it behind anyone's anything. You brought an asset, and I have the responsibility to make decisions on where the assets go."

"Ahh. Well, I'm out." I slowly stand up from the chair.

"Stop being so dramatic. You're still helping people. It's not like I'm making money off this."

"Oh, no, you misunderstand my motivation. I don't give a single shit about helping people. I've been doing this because I've been bored, and you're my friend. And instead of just talking to me about it, I'm an 'asset.'"

He throws down the cleaning rag, looking at me in irritation. "And what would you have me do? Entrust this entire building and all the people it helps to you? You said yourself you don't care about anyone else. You're on a power trip over ten whole dollars here and there."

"I'm working here without getting paid, jackass. In fact, I pay for the privilege of working here. I buy all the required components myself... oh. I get it. You thought you were doing me a favor, didn't you? Give the poor little monster a purpose in life? My time and energy were the cost of admission."

He shuts his eyes tightly, pinching his thumb and index finger across his nose. "You're not a charity case. You did seem like you needed a friend, but its a genuine friendship."

"Was. You betrayed my trust. You could have asked for donations, even. But no, you sold it, and you decided to do this after everything I've done for you? All the hours I've spent working, helping your son, talking to people I have no interest in speaking with?"

Kapil sits on a chair, head in his hands. "Lena, you're taking this a lot more personally than I thought you would. If I thought you would be upset by this, I would have asked first. You make it, so you can decide what it costs. I've been thinking about this the wrong way, and I apologize. Let me make it up to you."

I look down at him. He looks tired. Well-rested, but worn thin from holding up the sinking ship we're in. I'm pissed, but in perspective, at least he didn't call MBR on me.

Is that really how low my bar is?

I sit next to him. "Make it up how? I'll be honest, breaking my trust is the singular thing that makes me actually angry, and I'm kind of sensitive to it right now."

He takes a long sigh, thinking for a moment. "I have an idea. How about I give you the list of who all these medications go out to today, and you can deliver them yourself? I noticed you working late the last couple days, and you've seemed less talkative. Maybe it would do you some good."

His idea of an apology is genuinely to make me work more. Is he psychotic, the most extreme narcissist I've ever met, or is it some quirk of a human mind I don't get? I can take advantage of it, though. It's a good excuse to leave without making me seem like too much of an ass to my new friends.

"Sure. When I'm still annoyed after, I'm quitting."

"Fair's fair. Thank you for giving this a chance. As much as you're pretending to be some heartless creature, I can tell you're full of empathy. I know this is a hypocritical request, but trust me."

Kapil really doesn't know me at all. That's to be expected, we haven't know each other long. Maybe my frame of reference for friendship has been tainted by Shirai's unique approach.

"Against my better judgement, fine."

#31: I expect a lot from people despite being hesitant to tell them what I expect. I need to work on that.

#32: I try to give off the impression of being a kind and caring person at my heart. I'm not, but I'm not sure how to go about explaining that to people without them thinking I'm trying to screw them over somehow.